


In Pursuit of Knowledge

by Lyoko_Native



Category: Code Lyoko, Code Lyoko Evolution, Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anderfels, Crossover, Dalish, F/M, Ferelden, Grey Wardens, M/M, Magic, Multi, Orlais, Tevinter Imperium
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2247705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyoko_Native/pseuds/Lyoko_Native
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Code Lyoko/Dragon Age crossover. Uses mostly CL characters (tweaked to fit into the DA universe) but it uses mostly DA settings and lore.<br/>A simple mission to chart the unexplored places of Thedas becomes deadly serious as ghosts come back to haunt the adventurers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

9:29 Dragon  
Montsimmard, Orlais  
12th of Harvestmere

Montsimmard might not have been the cultural capital of Orlais--that title, as well as the title of the actual capital of Orlais, belonged to Val Royeaux--but it was still full of Orlesian charm and culture. It had only been a couple of days since Jeremie Belpois had left the Circle with his escort, Laura Gauthier, but he was so fascinated with being outside that it didn't seem to matter to him where he was.

Jeremie pushed his hair out of his face. He had mangy blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was pale from being in the Circle most of his life, though the past couple of days had rendered freckles on his forehead, nose and cheekbones. His blue Circle robes were ornate and very Orlesian. It wasn't as if he was unhappy with his robes, but he wasn't saying something simple would make him unhappy either. His staff was designed to look like a three-headed dragon, and he was rather proud of it.

"I wasn't aware that you wanted to all your life here in Montsimmard." Laura said as she brushed her bangs from her face. She, too, was blonde, and she'd grown her hair long despite the warnings of the Knight Commander Jean-Pierre. She had hazel eyes, and freckles on her nose. Her templar armor was glistening in the midday sun, the symbol of Andraste upon her chest appearing to almost burn. Jeremie had always found it ironic that Laura, who did not believe in the Maker, would choose such a holy position--not that he believed in Him much either. Having a religion with so many rules forced down your throat, especially in a country as devout as Orlais, was rather off-putting, to put it kindly.

He turned to face her. She was eyeing the bombs and salves. Alchemy was a hobby of hers. "I don't intend to. Let me get used to this, messere." He said as he spotted a book that would be considered 'non-curricular' in the Circle. After reading the description, he nearly dropped it with disgust.

"I've lived in Montsimmard my whole life," she complained loudly, "and you're not the only one who longs for adventure." She looked at him. Her cheeks turned pink and she looked away. Her feelings for him were unprofessional and forbidden. A templar and a mage? The stuff of pornographic novels, not reality.

Jeremie laughed. "Then surely you can wait a few more hours." He teased gently. He couldn't say he liked Laura, but she wasn't the most intolerable of all the templars. Besides, he thought as he bought elfroot and flasks from the merchant, if he was stuck with her, he might as well try to get along with her.

He opened his map and looked along the roads of Orlais. The thought of a grand adventure in such a beautiful world was exciting. Scouring the world, discovering new things... of course, his first priority was to find and document the uncharted area of the Arbor Wilds, before taking his leave to Ferelden and doing his best to chart the Chasind-occupied Korcari Wilds.

Having completed his preparations and buying a compass, Jeremie and Laura returned to the Chantry to claim the horses the Knight Captain had ordered be released to them. Laura's horse was a Destrier named Lisette, off-white in color, with her mane and tail cut short. She was in armor, and judging by the look in her eyes, was a specially trained, disciplined war horse. Jeremie’s horse was a Palfrey named Cinnamon, a much smaller horse bred primarily for travel. She was a warm brown, her mane blonde and her eyes fiery. She obviously was not trained as well as Laura’s horse, but then again, she wasn’t a war horse.

Jeremie struggled as he tried to get on his horse. She shook, and he dived to grab onto her. When she stopped, he nervously reached for his saddlebag and removed the map to look once more at their route. He traced his way across the Dales, moving south across the Deauvin Flats, to the Arbor wilds, a dark green splat upon an otherwise pleasant parchment. He would be lying if he said the idea didn’t frighten him. Those two words, ‘Uncharted Territory’, chilled him to the bone. The adventure that had made it hard to breathe just an hour ago now stung like a thousand arrows.

Laura looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “You ready to go?” She asked as she commanded Lisette to move forward. Nervously, he nodded, and after clumsily storing the map, commanded Cinnamon to move. Thankfully, she complied with ease, and Jeremie led their way out of Montsimmard.

 

\---

The Arbor Wilds  
15th of Harvestmere

After three days crossing the Dales had brought Jeremie and Laura to the edge of the Arbor Wilds. It was thick, dense forest, though in the mid-morning light, it was peaceful. Yet, his stomach twisted into knots, and his hands shook as their grip tightened on the reins. Laura ordered Lisette to walk closer to him. Laura was already a centimeter and a half taller than him, and when seated upon her horse, was eye-level with the top of his head. "Are you ready to begin this quest in earnest, then?" She asked.

His breath was shaking. Watching his hands clench on the reins was enough to increase Laura's vigilance. A frightened mage was a dangerous mage. Suddenly, he spun his head to glare at her. "I'm in charge of this expedition! You're only here to make sure I don't turn apostate!" He shouted, and she raised her hands. Keeping a stiff upper lip, he snapped the reins and entered the forest.

Sunlight sneaked in through the canopy. Most of the birds had flown north to Tevinter and Seheron for the winter, so it was ominously quiet. It reminded Jeremie of the long days in the Circle's libraries. It was always quiet among the mages, the only noise ever coming from the apprentices who were running about and playing when they weren't training. Occasionally a laugh would echo across the corridors, only to be followed by a chorus of 'shhs'. He'd always liked the quiet, and it was nice not having to worry about a bird swooping down to startle the horses.

Laura bit her lip and looked off to the side. "I... think I hear water running. Maybe we should start there? It seems to be the most logical place to start." She offered.

Jeremie stopped Cinnamon and listened. "I don't hear anything," he said as he looked over his shoulder to face her. "but we should keep an ear out for it. It would probably be a good place to start camp." He turned forward again and kept moving. Laura sighed and followed. They'd only gone a few meters before two figures rushed out of the brush. The taller of the two was carving their way forward with two curved swords while the other tried to keep up. The shorter one paused, and their eyes met Jeremie's. The moment was short lived, as immediately after their eyes filled with fear, and a small fireball was thrown at a dying tree, toppling it and setting it ablaze.

Cinnamon reared up and panicked. "Cinnamon, no! Easy, girl!" Jeremie shouted over the roaring fire. Cinnamon galloped away, and he was trapped by the stirrups and the rope he'd tied around his waist to keep his balance somewhat stable. He heard Laura shout his name, and a quick look back proved that she was trying to chase after him, but the fire was spreading too quickly. In fear, Lisette bolted back towards the Dales. "Dammit! Cinnamon, calm down!" He said. Her whinnies were panicked, sounding almost like a colicky baby weeping for its mother.

She twisted through the forest, but Jeremie was not so lucky. He was slammed into every branch, every tree trunk that she avoided. Seeing no other choice, he conjured a controlled flame to burn the rope. He used one of the dragon heads to catch himself on a branch. Jeremie was forced from the saddle, and now dangled from the branch.

He dropped to the ground and pulled on the staff until it broke free. He followed the path that Cinnamon had taken, though her maneuverability made her significantly harder to track. He looked back to where he'd come from. There was no sign of Laura, and the only sign of the fire was the pillars of smoke pluming up. He pushed his hair out of his eyes. "What have I stepped in this time?" Mumbling, he added, "I probably should go back to Laura so she doesn't think I went apostate. Not looking forward to the outcome if she did. But... she does have my phylactery... and if I find her before she finds me, no one will ever find Cinnamon... and winter is coming so she'll probably freeze..." With a heavy sigh, he pushed forward towards the horse. "Guess I should go after the damned horse..."

He wandered for a few hours, unable to locate the horse at first. He'd wished that he'd possessed the horse's phylactery to save them both time. Eventually, he heard a crackling fire, and keeping low to the ground, he followed the sound. A camp of scarred, brutal-looking warriors in various types of leather and chainmail armor sat around a dying fire. Some were taking knives to their hair to cut of the singed bits, and some were bandaging wounds. They were also filling a cart with dead bodies.

"We don't get paid enough to do this," One man said, his accent obviously from rural Ferelden. 

"You don't like it, don't stick around. Go run home to your mommy!" A Nevarran woman taunted.

The Fereldan looked at her. "But what about--"

"Shut up!" She shouted at him. "I got paid to get the boy by any means necessary and right now my dagger slitting your damned throat is sounding pretty necessary."

The two continued bickering, but all he could determine was their quest to 'get' a boy. Who this boy was and why they were paid to capture, or possibly kill, him were largely undisclosed. So much, he sighed, for pointless exposition. Suddenly, a hooded man walked across the other side of the camp, pulling something that was soon shown to be Cinnamon. Jeremie propelled himself out of the bushes and shouted, "That's my horse!" Two seconds later, he scolded himself for his rash stupidity.

The warriors drew their blades and surrounded him. He reached for his staff and fried the bandits closet to him with a cone of flames. "He's a mage! Get him, hurry!" An Orlesian man shouted. Jeremie cast Mind Blast to clear a path, and he charged for his horse. The man released her reins and drew his sword.

He looked as if he was preparing to slash at the mage, but suddenly he dropped his sword and screamed. Jeremie must have looked understandably confused, so before trying to reach his sword, the man shouted, "YOUR HORSE BIT ME IN THE BUTT!" Struggling to hold back a laugh, the mage kicked the sword out of the man's reach before casting Winter's Grasp to freeze him in place.

Jeremie jumped onto Cinnamon's back and snapped the reins, commanding her to charge forward and away from the camp. He was knocked off by the crossbow bolt that had found its home in his shoulder. Cinnamon reared up and bucked without him, successfully knocking out many of the warriors in her tantrum. The mage, on the other hand, struggled to pull out the bolt. When he had, he healed it, looking up in time to spot a leather-clad warrior with a greatsword charging him. Jeremie screamed and covered his face, too frightened to react. A few moments went by, and no attack came. He peaked from behind his hands to find that the warrior was trapped in stone.

Struggling to comprehend what had happened, a thin, gentle hand touched his forehead. A girl he couldn't see hummed for a moment, and then she spoke. "Sleep," her voice commanded, and he was in no position to struggle.


	2. Chapter 2

The Arbor Wilds  
16th of Harvestmere

Jeremie was woken by the sound of gentle creaking and the sound of children playing. He sat up and came face-to-face with a hunting dog, pale brown fur and war paint rising to give it a fearsome expression. The dog started barking, and Jeremie yelped, backing away from it.

An elf charged into the room. He had short brown hair and and fierce brown eyes, and his face was tattooed with designs resembling tree branches. Jeremie realized that he was Dalish. "Be calm, Revas." The elf said, and reluctantly, the dog stopped barking, though his haunches were still raised. "So. You're finally awake."

"What's going on? Where am I?" Jeremie asked. "Who are you?"

With a sigh, the elf folded his arms and said, "My name is Ulrich. You were ambushed by bandits that had wandered too close to our camp. Do you remember that?"

"Bandits?" He asked. He rubbed his head. "I remember being attacked... but I wasn't ambushed. I was trying to find my horse... and they'd captured her."

Ulrich raised his eyebrows, as if this had surprised him. "So, that was your horse? It explains why she was so intent on following you." He said.

"So Cinnamon is here?" He said, preparing to standing. "Good. I was worried that she wouldn't survive the coming winter."

Ulrich opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it. Jeremie tried to stand, but his leg crumpled under his weight, and he cried out in pain. "Ir abelas. I meant to tell you that I had sprained your ankle to hinder any attempts to sabotage our camp." The Dalish said, a slight smirk on his face. He grabbed the mage's staff and tossed it to him. "Here. Use this to keep your balance. The Keeper wants to see you."

"Why?"

"Because Aelita thought your life was worth saving. The Keeper wants to know why." He said. As Jeremie pulled himself off of the ground, Ulrich took an intimidatingly close step towards him. "Know this, shem. I don't know why Aelita wanted to help you, but if you hurt her, I will end you painfully. Understood?" Jeremie nodded, and the Dalish hunter moved out of his way.

The camp was beautiful. The elves were smiling and happy, laughing as they spoke and told stories. Some of the teenagers were practicing stringing their bows, and some of the adults were sewing warmer clothes for the coming winter. Jeremie was almost knocked off of his feet. He turned to see Cinnamon standing behind him, nuzzling his tattered Circle robes.

He stroked the Palfrey's nose, and then looked around. He spotted an aravel that was almost unnoticeably larger than the others and limped towards it. Cinnamon watched him for half a second before trotting ahead.

Jeremie opened the curtains. Two elven women stood inside, though they had not yet noticed him. The older was almost as tall as a human woman, her long blonde hair pulled into a loose bun. Her tattoos resembled pages of a book. The younger was only slightly older than him, perhaps a few months at most, with short, messy red hair. Her tattoos were obviously meant to resemble a bow and arrow. Both these women were mages. "Those men were no common bandits," the younger elf said, her accent vaguely Tevinter.

"Da'len, you draw connections where none exist." The older elf said. "You have no proof to support your claim."

"Why would bandits come here? No caravans or travelers come this way." She argued.

Before the older elf could reply, she spotted the Circle mage. "Enough. We will speak no more of this." She said before turning her attention to Jeremie. "Your eyes have finally opened, I see. Your fears were unfounded, Aelita."

The younger elf, presumably Aelita, shrugged. "He was injured badly. I believe my fears were completely understandable." They returned their attention to Jeremie.

The older elf forced a smile. "Allow me to welcome you to our clan, human. I am Keeper Anthea, and this is my First, Aelita." She looked to the younger elf. "It was she who insisted that we aid you."

"Thank you for helping me." Jeremie said, bowing. The young elf seemed flustered before offering a curtsy, which the older elf frowned at.

"The Keeper did most of the work," Aelita said, "I simply asked that she help you."

"Yes, your brother said as much. He also said that you wanted to see me."

Anthea nodded. "Aelita and I have been speaking. She believes your injuries are her fault."

Aelita looked to her feet. They were uncovered, and her toes painted a rosy pink, the same color as her facial tattoos. "Ulrich and I were being chased by bandits. I saw you and your companion during our escape, and I set a tree on fire to distract you."

Jeremie's eyes widened. "That was you?" He looked more closely at her. "Yes... I remember your face."

"At least you had an excuse to escape." She reasoned.

"From what? The bandits? Counterproductive, seeing as how I wound up at their camp anyway."

She shook her head. "Your companion was a templar, yes? You must have escaped from her."

"You think I've gone apostate?" Jeremie asked incredulously.

"Of course! Why else would you not have returned to her?" Aelita asked.

He narrowed his eyes and explained. "Ser Laura is in possession of my phylactery. If I wanted to escape, I would have tried to destroy it. I didn't return to her because I feared for the life of my horse."

The Keeper suddenly seemed alarmed. "A templar is tracking you?" He nodded. "Elgar'nan! Why didn't you say so?"

"I... was unconscious."

"Aelita, tell the hunters to be on the lookout of a female templar." Anthea ordered. When Jeremie pleaded for her life, she added that they merely stall her until the Keeper had a chance to parlay with her. Aelita obliged, scurrying out of the aravel. A black cat that the Circle mage hadn't seen ran after her. "I hope you appreciate the chance you've been given, shemlen." Anthea said.

"I do. You have my thanks." Jeremie said, bowing to the Keeper. She did not bow nor curtsy. This, he reasoned, was understandable.

"Do not be... offended if many refuse to talk to you. You are human and a stranger, and a dangerous enemy if provoked. We must exercise caution."

"I understand." He nodded. "Though spraining my ankle was unnecessary."

She laughed. "Perhaps. Ulrich has a protective spirit. You must forgive him." To say she walked out of the aravel was insufficient. She glided out, an air of mystery about her. Jeremie examined the decorations before following.

\---

At around midnight, commotion woke the slumbering elves. Jeremie startled with the rest of them, but moved slower. He heard Cinnamon gallop by, and he did his best to move faster.

A crowd had gathered near the primary entrance to the camp. "In the name of the Knight Commander, I demand that you hand over the mage Jeremie Belpois." The voice was distinctly Laura's.

"What if he's dead?" Ulrich asked.

"His body remains here, and I must claim it so it can be attended to." There was something in her voice. Sadness?

"He lives," Aelita said, and Jeremie could almost hear the glare she have her brother, "but what if he does not wish to go back?"

And again, the glare Laura must have given Aelita was audible. "Then I am required to apprehend him, no matter the cost."

An argument was brewing, and Laura's life--and possibly his own--hung on the outcome. "I believe I can speak for myself." He declared. The elves watched him a as he limped forward. Laura pushed past them. "Ser Laura, I'm sorry for any inconvenience I've caused you. I was simply trying to find Cinnamon when things got... out of hand."

She looked at him for a long time. “Why did you not return?” She asked, as if nothing else he had said mattered.

Aelita took a step forward, and Laura’s hand moved closer to the hilt of her longsword. “He is injured, and believed that you would find him.” She folded her arms. “Which you did. Your investigation is over.”

“How bad are your injuries?” She asked, not looking at the elven girl. “We can’t stay here for long. We have to get moving. The map won’t make itself.”

Jeremie looked down to his foot. He’d done his best to bandage it, though one of the elves had seen it and redid it, claiming that he could not allow such a terrible job to continue. “My ankle is sprained. I shouldn’t walk on it.” He looked back to the templar. “I should stay off it for a while, and even with magic, it’ll probably take about two or three weeks to heal.”

Laura made no effort to hide her exasperation. “Wonderful,” she said sarcastically, “but we should get moving. There are certain things here that we should be away from.”

“He is in no condition to move!” Aelita protested, now grabbing Laura’s shoulder so all her attention was on the First. “He needs rest! If you were to face the monsters in the Wilds, you would surely die, especially if your healer is injured!”

Laura straightened her back, and now, so did Aelita. Laura was almost half a head taller than Aelita. Despite being shorter and lacking proper armor, the elf girl was not intimidated by the templar. Threatened, on the other hand, was up for debate. "What would you suggest?" Laura asked, though it was obvious that it was a courtesy rather than actual concern.

"Rest here, at least for a few days." She said, not looking away. Ulrich tried to get her to back off, but she wouldn't. "Until the swelling dies down, at least. Is this acceptable?"

"And if I refuse?"

"You've no idea how many Dalish arrows are aimed at you right now."

"Though stung with a hundred arrows, though suffering from ailments both great and small, his heart was strong, and he moved on." A popular saying of Chanters, Jeremie noted she had likely only said it for intimidation, as bravado to claim she was more durable than she really was.

Aelita, oddly enough, laughed. "Oh, please." She said as her face became stone once more, "it's obvious you don't believe that any more than I do." Laura narrowed her eyes, but she reluctantly agreed to rest at the camp. Something almost like relief flashed across the First's face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I realize that Tevene is based on Latin and not Latin itself, Tevene has very little translations available, and most have been said by Fenris. When applicable, I use actual Tevene; most of it is very poorly translated Latin.

17th of Harvestmere

The sky had opened up overnight and begun to dump cold rain upon the camp. The elves had adapted to this inevitability, but Jeremie was dreadfully cold. He sat and watched the rain soak the earth through a small circular window in Ulrich's cabin. Ulrich, on the other had, had revealed his current project--he claimed to be developing a new kind of musical instrument, but at the moment it merely looked like a vihuela--a lesser known lute-type instrument out of Antiva--that didn't have enough strings.

Nervously reaching for his backpack, Jeremie removed his journal and his quill. "Ulrich, do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"When I hear some, I think three. Are you including that question?" He asked.

"No. I was just thinking, I could ask you questions, and you could ask me questions." The Circle mage reasoned.

Ulrich put down his project and tapped his chest. Revas jumped up from the floor and snuggled close to the elf. "Getting exposition out early, say?" Jeremie rolled his eyes. "Fine. You go first."

"Is the Keeper... your mother?" Jeremie asked. Keeper Anthea, her bondmate Franz, Ulrich and Aelita were all very close, even by Dalish standards.

"Yes and no. The Keeper adopted Aelita and I. Our birth mother died a long time ago." He shifted. "And before you ask, no, Franz isn't our birth father, either. Aelita and I had different fathers." A smirk spread across the elf's face. "Now it's my turn. What's up with the templar?"

Jeremie explained Ser Laura's duties, but was interrupted when Ulrich clarified that he wanted to know why she was so angry. "I'm not sure. She's never really acted like this."

"Have you known her for a long time?"

"Are you including that question in your three?" The mage teased. "Laura joined the templars in the Montsimmard Circle two years after I completed my Harrowing. She's about six months older than I am, but still, she was awfully young for a recruit."

Ulrich nodded. "I think I understand." He have an in characteristic smile. "Your turn."

"Let's talk about your mother, for a minute."

This visibly made Ulrich uncomfortable. After a long moment of silence, he looked away and said, "I'd rather talk about your mother."

"It's my turn to ask a question."

"Mother was an elf in the city. She died a few months after Aelita was born. I don't think she remembers her." Ulrich sat up. "My father was long gone by that time. Aelita's father, Leto, took us in." He smiled. "She was named after him, you know. Our mother really loved him."

"What happened? Why didn't you stay with him?" Jeremie asked.

Ulrich was silent for a long time. "It's my turn to ask you a question, isn't it?" The Circle mage sighed. "Why are you asking all of these questions?"

"I'm just curious. Is there a problem with that?" He asked. Ulrich didn't respond. "I'm trying to chronicle my adventure in my journal, to spread knowledge to the world. You're one of the only elves here willing to talk to me."

"Aelita told me to be nice." Ulrich shrugged.

"Now, why didn't you stay with Leto?"

"Are you sure you want to waste your last question on that?"

Jeremie sighed. "No, I suppose not." He instead revised the question. "So if you and Aelita were born in the city, how did you end up with the Dalish?"

Ulrich laughed. "Same as any other flat ear who joins the Dalish. We heard a rumor and came running."

"That can't be it."

"No, I'm afraid we really are that shallow." He laughed, as if he'd pleased himself greatly. "Tell me about your past."

This surprised Jeremie, though he realized quickly that it shouldn't have. "My parents were farmers northwest of the Nahashin Marshes. I remember playing in the gardens with my cousin and always smelling... peppermint." He laughed as he pushed his hair out of his face. "Mother was such a worrywart. I think I inherited it from her. Whenever I brought home injured animals so I could heal them and she could feed them, she panicked. She always thought that one of the farmhands would sell us out to the templars.

"And she was right, of course. I don't remember who sold us out. I wasn't allowed to keep anything of them. I... barely remember what our land looked like." Jeremie smiled. "I excelled at my training. My teacher--a man named Lucan--he said I was a natural. I completed my Harrowing at thirteen."

Ulrich was smiling, but his eyes were sad. "You're lucky that you had such a happy childhood." There was more to his statement, but Ulrich refused to explain. Soon, the aravel was opened.

"Ulrich, I need to speak with--oh, aneth ara, Jeremie." Aelita said.

"De praeteritis expetebat," Ulrich said. While Jeremie did not speak Tevene himself, it sounded like the language. "Nolite ergo solliciti esse; ego tuli eum in circulis."

Aelita smiled. "Tu semper omnia." She folded her arms. "Cogitat quae tibi dixi?"

"Ne tu possis ire solo."

"Nec sine te, frater." She looked to Jeremie. "Si solum sperávi nolim amplecti."

Ulrich laughed again. "Festis bei umo canavarum." He said jokingly.

"Can we speak the Common, please? I don't understand any of what you're saying!" Jeremie interrupted.

Aelita covered her mouth daintily. "That was the point." She folded her arms. "So full of questions, huh?"

The Circle mage sighed. "We just finished the questions game." With hope obvious in his voice, he asked, "Unless, you'd like to answer some questions I have as well?"

Aelita looked to Ulrich. "Fugiens quod ei dictum est civitas, et mater mortua est."

Her nod was almost unnoticeable. "Ulrich, Papa wants to see you." He seemed worried for a moment, but then nodded and stood. Revas followed him diligently. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Just clearing some stuff that Ulrich won't tell me." He shifted. "Ulrich said you were raised by your father, right? Leto?"

"Yes. Though Auntie Varania and Grannie Lidya helped some too." She took a clump of her hair and started twisting it.

"Why did you leave him?"

Visibly uncomfortable, Aelita shifted. It took her a long while to respond. "I'm not sure you know this, but in the Alienage, there's a Rite of Passage into adulthood. But it's kind of boring. It's... a wedding. You have to get married."

"You were married?" He asked incredulously.

She nodded. "Yes, but Father didn't have much money for a dowry, so my match was a poor one. He... was abusive, and manipulative to the point where I felt leaving him would actually kill him." She pulled up her knees. "Eventually Father got sick of it, so he told me to run away."

Jeremie looked away from her for a moment. "I knew Ulrich wasn't telling me everything."

Aelita laughed. "He rarely does!"

"Okay, next question. Have you ever been hunted by templars?"

"No. Most elves try to stick together. You just sort of learn to keep quiet, for the sake of community. The elves you met in the Circle were usually caught using magic by outsiders or spies."

For some reason, this struck Jeremie as odd. There were many elves in the Circle; too many for this to make sense. Either the Alienage Aelita had lived in was unique, or she was lying.

\---

21st of Harvestmere

Finally, Jeremie felt up to returning to his journey. The swelling had finally died down, due in no small part to magic, and walking on it did not hurt as badly. He told as much to Laura, who insisted upon them leaving the camp as soon as possible.

So, it was with a heavy heart that the 'leader' of the expedition began to pack up his things and haggle for the replacements of lost supplies. At some point, he noted, it would be necessary to return to the city and buy more supplies. All that was left was to thank the Keeper for her hospitality.

But, when the Circle mage hobbled into the Keeper's aravel, he found her and her First once again in an argument. "But this is your home. Are you certain you wish to do this?"

"I do not wish it, Keeper. But I know that we must." Aelita said mournfully. "If we remain here, we will all die. He knows where we are now."

"It is now necessary to move camp anyway." The Keeper said. "You are in no more danger than any of us."

"Moving the camp is not enough!" Ulrich, whom he'd not seen, argued. "He knows the clan now! He'll stalk us until our deaths!" Softer, he added, "Mama, listen to me. We love you all dearly. But he'll seek revenge, and now Aelita and I must go."

"Excuse me," Jeremie said, stepping out of the shadows. The elves jumped upon seeing him. "What's going on?" He asked.

The Keeper looked to Ulrich and Aelita. Then, with a heavy sigh, she looked back to Jeremie. "It is time for you to go. But before you do, I have a request to ask of you."

"Of course, Keeper."

"I must ask that you take Ulrich and Aelita with you."

Jeremie was surprised with this development. It had seemed that Aelita and Ulrich were valued highly as members of the clan, especially Aelita, who was in line to become Keeper. "That seems rather... unusual."

Anthea sighed. "The choice was not mine to make, and I agreed with a heavy heart." She said. "They believe that they can do more good with you than they could do here."

Jeremie folded his arms. "And what if I do not wish to take them with me?" There was sadness in Aelita's eyes, and he frowned when he saw it, feeling like a complete ass.

Here, the Keeper grew somewhat more aggressive. "Aelita's magic will be useful. She also has reasonable talent for swordplay. Ulrich is one of our best hunters, and has studied Dalish crafting. Furthermore, they learn quickly and follow orders." She, too, crossed her arms and brushed a misplaced hair from her eyes. "You would be an idiot to refuse their help."

The Circle mage looked from Anthea to Aelita and Ulrich. Aelita's eyes were focused squarely on Jeremie, her delicate hands pulled up to her chest, trembling slightly. Ulrich seemed more relaxed, leaning against the side of the aravel. Yet he, too, seemed apprehensive. "Very well. I am in no position to reject help when it is given."

Aelita visibly relaxed, and a hint of a relieved smile dashed across Ulrich's face. "Ma serannas! We'll go gather our things, say farewell to the clan..." Aelita said, her voice quickened and hopeful. "Ma serannas, Keeper."

Anthea took Aelita's hand, and then motioned for Ulrich to come closer as well. She took his hand, and gave them a long look before pulling them close. Aelita freely have a hug, but Ulrich was slower to respond, albeit just as warmly. "I love you both so much. Come home to us one day. Until then, I will pray that Mythal watched over you as I have these past few years."

"Thank you, Mama." Ulrich said, and the elves broke their hug. He looked to Jeremie seriously. "Where are we headed?"

"South until we find the coast, or at least a large body of water." Jeremie said. "It'll make for a good landmark."

"Understood." The Dalish hunter said. He grabbed a large backpack and left the aravel. Aelita grabbed one, as well, and followed her brother.

Jeremie moved to leave too, though Anthea caught him. "Wait. You must know by now that my children did not have... pleasant childhoods. And I suspect that you believe that they did not tell you everything." The Keeper ran her fingers through her hair. "I do not know, not do I care, what they told you. But know that the past is important to all of us, and that I entrust you to protect them from theirs." She looked at him with fire in her eyes. "I don't want to hear about a death, do you understand?"

"Understood, Keeper." Jeremie said, his voice faltering.

The Keeper smiled, but it was forced. She was still angry and worried when her bond age Franz entered the aravel.

Jeremie had only spoken with Franz for brief periods of time. He had dark brown eyes and greying hair. His facial tattoos resembled a tree, it's branches and it's roots. He looked to be quite a bit older than Anthea. "Oh, good. You're still here." He said as he looked to Jeremie. "I have crafted this for you." He said, presenting the Circle mage with a long package.

Upon removing the paper, Jeremie found a staff crafted of fine wood. It was crooked near the top and flat on the bottom, so it stood on its own. "This is amazing! Thank you so much!" He beamed.

Franz smiled half-heartedly. "Aelita said that you would be walking uncomfortably for some time. She asked that I help you with that." He folded his hands behind his back. "It has a powerful ice enchantment on it. Use it well."

"I will." Jeremie smiled. Utilizing his new staff, he limped out of the aravel. Anthea and Franz watched him go, and the master craftsman held his bondmate as she quaked with apprehension.


End file.
